Buggirl's Increasingly Strange Tokyo Tales...

Last night at Istanbul could have gone better, but it also could have been horrible. As it was, Anaan thought I was just wonderful (she, her mother, and her boyfriend sat in the entranceway of the packed restaurant to see me) one of the regulars tipped me and this morning Anaan sent me  a text message about how I have now gone through a rite-of-passage in belly dance, the energy and joy-sucking bitch in the audience.
( Suck you! Succubus! )

Sunday night I sat down to write about part two of my dance class. I didn’t know where to start, so I started at the top of a mini-can of Chu-hi and worked my way down. And then I took a bath.

 

I figured why ruin the nice day I had? opua  came over, we dished, I made risotto, it was good.

 

opua  tried to write about it all, but decided to post a picture of McGyver instead...an act I applaud, but I can't leave ya'll hanging. So here's take two.

 

( The so-called dance lesson gets worse. )

P.S. If you lick this post you'll find it tastes like bile, that's the power of my aura, baby...

Did I call her wacky? Awww.. I meant to say, Fucking Crazy-Pants Insane!

We will no longer be doing any sort of conventional yoga stretches or sports-like stretching before we dance…which I am going miss because I’ve always felt we don’t do enough loosening up and stretching before doing insane bouncing “warm-ups” and such things (which I blame for my last pulled muscle.) … We’re now stretching (insert forced grin) our emotions and bodies.

 We will now begin each class, in groups of three, doing slow, freeform, stretches while maintaining physical flesh on flesh contact with each other. I think the technical term is writhing together…. but let’s back up a bit, and go to what happened before class started.

( The rest of the story )